


Swan Lake: Real Style

by openmoments



Category: Football RPF, La Liga - Fandom, real madrid
Genre: Ballet, Dancing, Football, M/M, Multi, boys loving boys is how i roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmoments/pseuds/openmoments





	Swan Lake: Real Style

“I don’t really have to wear the tights, do I?” Lass asked as he held out the light pink tights covered in silver sparkles by his pointer finger and thumb, held at arm’s length.

“Yes, you do. We’re all wearing the tights,” Sergio said forcefully as he continued to hand out the costumes.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Mesut said enthusiastically from his spot on the stage floor, the large pink tutu in his lap, spilling over the sides of his legs and over his knees.

Sami smiled down affectionately from where he was standing next to Mesut. “Of course you do.”

“But why don’t Xabi and Cris and Iker have tutus?” Fabio asked as he held his out in front of him, before looking up at Sergio who sighed and rolled his eyes. 

The costume designer opened his mouth to answer but Mou stepped onto the stage at that moment, causing everyone to still from what they were fussing over.

“They don’t have to wear tutus, Fabio,” Mou stated, looking at him in the eyes, “Because the male parts don’t wear tutus.” 

Fabio’s eyes dropped to the pink pouf in front of him and then Mou continued, “I want no more complaining about the costumes. Understand?” he said, his voice booming in the otherwise empty theatre. “Sergio’s worked very hard on getting these finished for you, so you’ll wear them and you’ll do it happily.”

“You did a great job, Sergio,” Mesut piped up from the floor and Sergio smiled down at him, pride brightly radiating off of him. 

Mou smiled affectionately towards the young man before continuing, “You’ll all change right away and then we’ll start rehearsal,” and he paused a moment before adding while looking pointedly at Lass, “And I want no complaining.”

 

“But what is it?” Marcelo asked in a hushed voice as he and Pepe poked at the fabric Sergio had handed to them earlier. 

“I have no idea, but do we really have to wear it?”

“I hope not. We’ll blind the audience with them.”

The two of them jumped up when they saw Sergio standing in front of them, hands crossed and a measuring tape hanging around his neck.

“They’re leotards and you’re both going to wear them,” he stated.

“But they’re so...” Marcelo started before drifting off and glancing over at Pepe who finished the sentence, “They’re really fucking bright, Sergio.” 

The designer’s face fell and the two rushed to apologize, “Of course we’ll wear them, Sergio.”

“Yeah man. You did a great job with all of it.”

Sergio’s face brightened up and he told them, “Go put them on so we can see how they fit,” before walking happily away.

After he had left, Marcelo and Pepe looked both looked at the palm tree covered florescent green material they had in their hands.

There was a pause and Pepe repeated, “They’re really fucking bright.”

 

“Cris, I really need to go get dressed. Sergio told me that Mou wants us out there in ten minutes and that he wasn’t looking too happy already.”

“Mou’ll be fine. He just always looks like that. I think he got booted in the head as a teenager and warbled things up a bit,” Cris said with a shrug before pulling Mesut back towards him.

“I don’t want him to get mad at us our first day doing this though,” Mesut said with a sign as Cris licked a line down his throat before working his way back up again.

“No one could stay mad at you, Mesut,” Cris whispered against his ear.

Mesut blushed furiously, a content smile on his face as he clung on to Cris’s shoulders as the taller one nipped gently at his ear before passing his thumb over his mouth, Mesut’s tongue darting out quickly. Cris smiled and then bent down to cover his mouth with his own. 

 

“They’re going to notice, you know,” Marcelo hissed as they ducked into the dressing room.

“We’re going to be in and out and no one will notice until we want them to,” Pepe reassured him as he looked around the room. 

“What are you looking for anyways?”

Pepe shrugged, “I don’t know. Something that’ll piss Mou off.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Marcelo muttered under his breathe and Pepe grinned as he spotted the pink tights and tutu combo on the shelf. The smile got wider when he saw who they belonged to. 

“Jackpot.”

 

“You can’t just sulk the entire time you know.”

“I’m not sulking.”

Iker just threw Xabi a look as he rolled the dark blue tights up his calf and over his knee.

“You’re definitely sulking,” Cris threw in as he walked into the room and crossed the room to stand in front of the mirror.

“I’m not sulking.” 

Cris just raised his eyebrows as he inspected his outfit, hands on his hips as he turned to the side. “Whatever you say, Xabi. Whatever you say.”

There was a pause as Xabi stared at the thin gauzy blue material in his hands. And then, “Why are you lead?”

Cris slowly turned around, “Because I’m always lead.”

Sighing, Iker ignored the show down that was bound to happen, instead pulling his leotard on over top of his tights.

“And why is that?” 

“Because you refuse to shave that awful red beard off your face, I imagine,” Cris said with a shrug. 

“Well at least I can grow facial hair,” he pointed out and Cris’s eyes narrowed. 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” he said after a moment and Xabi opened his mouth to retort when the door slammed back against the wall and all three of the men looked up to see Mou standing in the door way, shaking his head.

“Xabi, Cris is lead because he has,” here Mou waved his hands in front of him in a nonsensical patter, “Flair, I guess.”

Cris smiled haughtily for a moment before Mou added, “But, Cris, he does have a point about the facial hair. Have you tried anything for it?” he asked with a shrug before something caught his eye on the other side of the doorway and suddenly Marcelo and Pepe barreled by, Marcelo wearing a sparkly pink tutu as a head band while Pepe had a pair of equally sparkly pink tights on his bald head, the legs flying wildly behind him.

Ten seconds later Mesut was leaping by, preceded and followed by wailing of, “I need to get dressed! Give me my costume back!” 

Mou looked up to the ceiling for a moment, muttered something to himself before leaving the doorway, roaring, “Marcelo! Pepe!” and chasing after all three of them.

The room stayed silent for a moment, Xabi and Cris staring at each other while Iker had stopped with putting on his leotard and instead muttered to himself, over and over, “Why me? Why me?”

Finally Xabi shrugged and said, “You do have nice flair,” to which Cris answered, “And your beard really isn’t that bad. Maybe one day I’ll give it a go.”

 

“I’m just worried I’m going to stretch them.”

“They’re meant to be stretched you know.”

“No, I know. But I mean, stretch them too big, you know?”

A pause and then, “They’ll fit you if you’re the one stretching them. You realize that, right?”

“Oh shut up. At least I know I won’t get runs in mine.”

“Won’t get what?”

“Runs. You know, the awkward lines in tights that mean you’ve ruined them. Sergio will flip when he sees what’ve happened to yours.”

“Nothing’s wrong with my tights!”

“Yes there is! Just look. You’ve already managed to get three in the one leg.”

“Oh fuck. Think Sergio will notice?”

“Of course he’ll notice! He’s Sergio. I told you you should have clipped your toenails.”

“Well I was going to. And then someone distracted me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re easily distractible.”

“I’m not easily distractible!”

“You are when I do this.....”

“Gonzalo Higuain! What did you do to my tights?” 

“Sergio! I swear I didn’t know...I’m sorry!”

“How did these even happen?” 

“He forgot to...clip his toe nails.”

“...that’s disgusting Higuain.”

“Oh shut up Sergio. As if you’re always perfectly groomed.”

“....did you really say that? To Sergio?”

“Oh shut up José. You know what I meant.”

“Here. I have a pair of nail clippers. Deal with those nails and there’s another of tights you can put on after.” 

“You just carry around a pair of nail clippers?”

“I’ve come to accept that some people are not as well groomed as I am. So I help them.”

“That’s just...weird, Sergio.”

“Well, Gonzalo , you’re the one with the awkward toenails.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Well, hurry up and clip them. Mou wants your scene rehearsed in ten minutes.”

“We just did it half an hour ago!”

“It needs work. So hurry up!”

“Just because he’s the designer he thinks...”

“Oh quit complaining, Higuain. Clip your nails.”

“Quit being so bossy.”

“I know it annoys you. And you’re so hot when you’re annoyed...”

“We’re going to be late for rehearsal you know.”

“You’re really going to complain about that now?”

“No, no I’m really not.”

 

“I really don’t think your hair is...suitable.”

Good naturally Esteban smiled with a bit of a raised eyebrow, “Why not?”

“It’s quite....long, you know.”

“I’m not going to cut it for this, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’ll grow back!”

Esteban rolled his eyes and shook his thick mane of hair, “Sergio. Really?”

The costume designer paused, hands on his hips before he let out a tortured sigh. “There is one thing we could do.”

With a raised eyebrow, Esteban asked, a little worriedly, “Oh, and what’s that?”

Sergio shook his head at the question, “You don’t get to ask because you’re going to get to keep your hair. I’m just going to make it more like mine.”

“Dear god. Long and blonde and swishy? I really hope not.”

Sergio leveled a warning look at him, “If only you were so lucky. No. And you’re not going to tell anyone about what I’m going to do to your hair. No one, understand?”  
Nervously Esteban pulled back as Sergio was leading him to his dressing room, “What, exactly, are you going to do to me and my hair, Sergio?”

Sergio rolled his eyes, “Relax. You’ll be the envy of every girl out there afterwards. And Iker’s been trying to fuck this secret out of me for the last few years. And while he’s amazing between the sheets, not even he knows this secret.”

“Iker fucks you for hair secrets? But he doesn’t even have any hair!” Esteban wondered softly as Sergio pushed him into a hairdressing hair and wrapped him up in a cape.

“Oh, don’t ever mention that to him. He’s sensitive about that. Now hush up and feel special that you didn’t have to blow me for this. Unless, of course,” Sergio paused for a moment as his eyebrows danced mischievously, “you want to.”

 

“I see you got your tutu back,” Sami noted as Mesut twirled around the dressing room before coming to stop in front of the mirror where he adjusted his tights.

Mesut made a face, “Only after Mou chased Pepe and Marcelo down and made them give it back to me.”

Sami turned his head away to hide his smile and then sucked back a laugh when he heard Mesut mutter, “Pepe’s fat head stretched my tights.”

After he got himself under control, Sami teased, “I don’t think Pepe would like to hear that,” and couldn’t help laughing at the look Mesut gave him from across the room. He slipped on his ballet shoes before making his way over to Mesut and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” he asked as he pressed a kiss just below his left ear.

Mesut smiled at him through the mirror, “Of course I am,” and Sami had to wonder how anyone could be so ridiculously sweet about wearing pink, sparkly tights and a tutu. Especially a grown man. 

Sami moved and slipped his arms around his waist, “You’re something else,” he whispered before turning Mesut around and pushing him up against the wardrobe next to the mirror.

“Sami,” Mesut whined through a laugh as he ran his hands over Sami’s head and shoulders, “We’re supposed to be getting ready to practice.”

Sami waggled his eyebrows as he bumped his forehead against Mesut’s, “We can practice something else,” he suggested and the only answer he needed was Mesut’s quiet giggle before it turned into a sigh as their mouths met. 

 

“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to allow it,” Gonzalo said pointedly as Karim spun the chair around for the fiftieth time, pushing off with his tight clad feet before lifting them onto the chair and holding onto his knees.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Karim asked as he steadied himself on the little shelf under the mirror, as he smiled dizzily at Higuain.

Gonzalo rolled his eyes as he lay back down on the floor, arms pillowing his head, “Because this is a ballet production, in case you’d missed it, with the tutus and leotards,” he pointed out sarcastically and Karim rolled his eyes as he pushed off with his foot to spin again, “ and I’m pretty sure Mou would not approve of rap in a ballet.”

“You never know. He’s a bit odd,” Karim pointed out.

Gonzalo pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as Karim spun about in a mess of blue tights, silver sparkles, and electric blue leotard with bright pink smiley faces, all blurring to become some hideous mix of electric colours. 

“But he’s not ridiculous,” he pointed out, “Besides,” he continued, “How, exactly, do you propose we dance to rap?”

Karim stopped and looked dizzily at Gonzalo as he shrugged his shoulders, “We’re pretty much going to land on our faces doing ballet, so I don’t think Xabi trying at hip hop could be much worse.”

There was a pause as Gonzalo leveled a look at Karim, “Xabi? You’re expecting Xabi to be the one to dance to rap?”

“Why not?” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“He could do it!” Karim enforced as he stood up and took a tentative step before shuffling over to where Gonzalo was sitting up.

Gonzalo looked up at Karim, his eyebrows raised, “That’s so ridiculous I can’t even believe you said that. Mesut would be a better option. Hell, Arbeloa would be a better option than Xabi.” 

“I find that insulting,” Karim pouted as Gonzalo pulled him down onto his lap.

“You’re too easily insulted then,” Gonzalo teased as he bumped his nose against Karim’s. 

Karim frowned for a moment before asking, “What about you and Calleti?”

Gonzalo shrugged, “He and Fabio are rehearsing something.”

“But aren’t you two...,” and Karim trailed off as he didn’t know exactly what he was trying to ask. 

Gonzalo laughed, “Yeah, we are. But,” he said and he shrugged casually, “which of us on the team actually sticks to one person?” and the look on Karim’s face was shocked to which Gonzalo tilted his head at and raised his eyebrows.

“Really? You don’t know that I’ve been sleeping with Calleti, who’s been sleeping with Iker, who I’m pretty sure has been sleeping with Cris for the last month who honestly doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants, at all, whatsoever, and has been sleeping with Sergio, Kaká, and Mesut for the last, what? three months? at least,” Gonzalo told him, eyes staring just over Karim’s shoulder as the Frenchman’s eyes widened as the names were listed off.

“Why don’t they all just jump in bed together and get it over with?” Karim asked, not entirely joking.

“Only if you come, too,” Gonzalo told him, as he raised his eyebrows suggestively and before Karim could come up with a suitable answer, Gonzalo had rolled him over onto his back, covering his mouth with his own before he could make much of a protest.

From the doorway, Mou shook his head and then walked away, “We’re never going to get this production finished. And Karim Karimema is absolutely nuts if he thinks Xabi is going to agree to do hip hop,” which, after a moment was followed by, “How does Cris have the stamina?”

 

“That was fucking terrible.” Sami said it but they were all thinking it and all Lass could do was stare at the space in front of him, eyes looking at absolutely nothing and glazed over. 

“There was no way that could have gone any worse,” Xabi mumbled as he pried off his ballet shoes and chucked them at the wall opposite them, one of them bouncing and hitting Cris where he was laying down on the ground. 

“If we had been naked, that would have made it worse,” Lass mumbled, still staring at nothing. 

Cris pushed himself up, “No, actually, I think that might have made it better,” he said before he dropped himself back down on the floor.

“I really don’t think anyone could see us after we came on stage,” Marcelo pointed out as he tugged on his leotard.

“The costumes aren’t that bright,” Sergio defended, though halfheartedly as he blinked and turned away when Pepe stood in front of him in his outfit. “Alright, maybe they are.”

“At least we tried though!” Mesut piped up cheerfully from where he was leaning against Sergio, the other man’s hand slowly pushed his hair off of his face.

Karim didn’t bother to look up from where he was laying, his head on Esteban’s lap and added, “I knew we should have added that rap bit,” and Sergio just shook his head, eyes wide open, mouthing ‘No’, as Esteban laughed softly, hand patting Karim’s bald head lovingly. 

“I wish Mou would have given it a chance,” Mesut put in and Sergio smiled down at him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as Mesut tiredly closed his eyes.

“As long as Xabi wasn’t going to be dancing to it, I’m sure it would have been fine,” Pepe teased, laughing as he imitated what Xabi would have looked like before being smacked in the back of the head. 

“I would have done a better job than you would have,” Xabi retorted as he sat back down in his chair, arms folded. 

Iker stood up and stretched, hands linked together over his head, “As long as I never have to do that again, I don’t care,” he said as he moved to walk out, Xabi subtly getting up to join him at the door, hand resting on his lower back as they made to exit the room.

“Where are you two going?” Mou asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

“Aren’t we done?” Xabi asked, voice low as his hand tightened around Iker’s hip.

Mou smiled as he clapped his hands together, “We moved on, boys! Next dance will be against Sevilla,” he announced to the group amid a chorus of groans. “So rest up, not too much funny business tonight,” he added, eying the groups around the room and Cris rolled his eyes at the ceiling while Kaká smiled down at him and Esteban placed a quick kiss on the top of Karim’s head and Sergio smiled down at the dozing Mesut. 

“I mean it you guys. The crowd loved you!”

“Were they blind?” muttered Lass and Alvaro and Raul nodded in agreement, sleepily propped up against each other. 

Mou waved away the criticism, “So I’ll see you guys all bright and early tomorrow morning!” he said cheerfully before disappearing as suddenly as he had arrived.

There was a pause in the room before JoséKaká asked, “Has anyone ever had him checked out?”


End file.
